


Seeing Stars (brighter than the constellations)

by carpemermaid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Banter, Blow Jobs, Bottom Draco, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Draco Malfoy in Glasses, Dubious Ethics, Eavesdropping, Getting Together, Gift Fic, HP: EWE, Hung Harry Potter, Implied Switching, Innuendo, Interviews, Locker Room, Love Bites, M/M, Minor Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Multiple Orgasms, POV Draco Malfoy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Hogwarts, Puddlemere United, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Reporter Draco Malfoy, Rimming, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Smut, Top Harry, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9661928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpemermaid/pseuds/carpemermaid
Summary: After “accidentally” overhearing a rumour that Harry Potter is hung, Draco cashes in a few favours to ensure he’s the reporter doing the Puddlemere United post-game interview with the team’s prized Seeker in the team locker room.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capitu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitu/gifts).



> Dear, sweet Capitu I hope you have a wonderful birthday because you’re a literal ray of sunshine that always goes around making everyone’s day brighter! I humbly offer you some hung!Harry to add to your pile of gifts.
> 
> Big tackle-hug thank you goes out to Maccadole for being an angel and looking this over!

Draco strode into the Leaky Cauldron just as the lunch hour rush was dwindling down to a manageable lull. He adjusted his glasses, pressing them higher on his nose as he made a beeline for his usual seat at the bar. He had just handed in his article on Muggle enhancement drugs bleeding into the Quidditch League to his editor, and there was a large pint with his name on it as a reward for completing the piece.

Just as he was about to sit down a flash of red hair caught his eye.

Ginny Weasley and her new wife, Luna Lovegood, were seated at the other end with Longbottom. They were chatting to him and Hannah Abbott as she served up two steaming plates of chips. Draco perked up; he’d been trying to nail down an interview with Ginny on her fifth consecutive year as a Chaser with the Holyhead Harpies, but she had been too wrapped up with practice and Luna to give Draco the time of day. He planned to use this opportunity to his advantage.

“Afternoon, Hannah,” Draco said, also nodding to Longbottom, Ginny, and Luna in greeting as he approached the group. “Could I have my usual, please? Can I get you ladies a drink, too?”

Ginny pursed her lips, rolling her eyes when Luna nudged her side.

“We’ll have two glasses of the house-elf red, Hannah,” Luna said with a docile smile. Draco slid a handful of Knuts and Sickles across the rough-hewn bar to cover the tab.

“Quite the season you’ve had,” Draco said conversationally as Hannah handed him a pint. He savoured the first sip, licking the foam from his upper lip. “I was quite impressed with that save from your last game.”

“Ginny’s always been such a talented flyer,” Luna praised, tucking a stray lock of red hair behind Ginny’s ear. She stared at her wife with doe eyes. Draco hummed noncommittally. She was talented, but she wasn’t his favourite player in the league.

“Do you see the Harpies taking the League Cup this year?” Draco asked, making a show of laying a napkin in his lap and carefully slicing his piece of shepherd’s pie when it arrived.

“Well, we’ve got some kinks to work out with our latest flight pattern plays, but the groundwork is there,” Ginny answered. She was absently dipping her greasy chips into vinegar.

“And you think you’ll be able to finish out the season strong, even against Puddlemere United’s Beaters?” Draco kept his questions carefully neutral as he busied himself with his lunch.

“Yeah, I mean, they’re a formidable pair, but our Beaters can take them,” Ginny mused as she toasted her glass of wine against Luna’s.

“It’s wonderful to see a healthy rivalry between your team and Puddlemere United. Do you chalk that up to your friendship with their Seeker?” Draco hoped he kept his voice level enough. He prided himself on his professionalism.

Ginny glanced down the bar at him with narrowed eyes before answering. “Harry’s like family, so it’s like playing against one of my brothers.”

“Oh, just like the stories you’ve told me about when you grew up,” Luna chimed in. She held up a dripping chip for Ginny to take from her fingers. Luna licked the excess vinegar up with a thoughtful expression. “You used to fly in the field behind the Burrow with your family.”

Ginny smiled warmly at Luna, tugging her closer for a quick kiss. Draco remained quiet, focusing on his food and drink. He carefully thought about his next question.

“So, then there’s no love lost between Potter and your family when your professional teams play against each other?” he asked.

“No comment,” Ginny replied. Draco frowned, turning to face them.

“There is love lost? I thought you were a happy newlywed?” he pressed.

“No comment!” Ginny’s sharp look made Draco pause before opening his mouth again. The three of them sat in a strained silence for a few minutes. He could hear the girls murmuring to each other under their breath.

“How is married life, then? Are you both enjoying your time together? You must be looking forward to the off season when you can have more of a monopoly on your wife, Luna,” Draco said. He took a deep pull from his ale as he waited for an answer.

Ginny turned on him, her fiery eyes flashing. Luna put a calming hand on her shoulder, but it didn’t quell Ginny’s irritation.

“No comment, and if you ask me one more off the record question, Malfoy, I’m going to kick your arse from here to Knockturn Alley. So, you’d better lay off,” she said fiercely, reminding Draco of her days as the spitfire Gryffindor that slung legendary Bat-Bogey Hexes in the halls of Hogwarts. He leaned back on his stool, holding his hands up in surrender. He finished the last two bites of his pie and pushed his plate away.

With a huff he stood and sauntered to the loo. He cast a discreet Notice-Me-Not charm on himself that was just this side of legal. Draco was glad Longbottom stuck with teaching Herbology rather than going into the Auror Academy, like he had been talking about in eighth year. He checked that the coast was clear and crept back towards the bar.

He sat far enough away that he could still hear their conversation, while also ensuring that no one was going to sit where he was and catch him eavesdropping.

Hannah returned from the kitchen with a fresh plate of chips to share between the girls and herself. Longbottom ambled by, swiping some for himself. He grinned when Hannah swatted at him. They blithered on about inconsequential things for several minutes, leaving Draco increasingly frustrated. After being hit by a Stinging Hex for stealing his wife’s chips, Longbottom admitted defeat and walked away.

He mentally reviewed the answers he had been able to work out of Ginny, before she had caught onto his game. He debated whether or not she would come after him with her solicitor if he published the off the cuff quotes.

When he snapped back to attention, he realised what they were talking about. He couldn’t recall how they ended up on the topic.

“…lucky Hannah, Neville is a generous lover,” Ginny was saying with a coy smile. She and Longbottom had dated briefly during his eighth year, before he had started courting Abbott.

“He is, but you have to tell me how he sizes up to Harry, so to speak,” Hannah urged with a saucy wink. Luna giggled girlishly, happily sipping at her wine. Her cheeks were flushed pink in the dim pub lighting.

“You’re the only one who’s been with both of them,” Luna pressed, tickling Ginny’s side teasingly. Ginny blushed, and drank a healthy sip of wine. “Tell us, so we can all share the knowledge!”

“Yeah, but I’m married now. To _you_! I shouldn’t go around spreading gossip about it,” Ginny said.

“Oh hush, I want to know — who’s bigger, Neville or Harry?” Luna asked with a wide grin. Draco’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Well, Neville is definitely a healthy man — like I said, you’re a lucky girl, Hannah,” Ginny said. “But, ah, Harry is… sizeable. Like, he’s fucking _hung_. Sometimes it was really too much for me.”

Her expression shifted before she fully answered the question, her eyes going bright and far off. Suddenly Draco forgot all about why he should care about Ginny’s current game play stats, or her latest sponsorship deals. All he could think about was vivid mental images of Potter — Quidditch toned, professional genius on a broom _Potter_ , with a gift of the gods between his legs. And, oh Merlin, Draco couldn’t help himself. He needed to see it to believe for himself. And, though he barely dared to hope, maybe touch and taste and _feel_ as well.

He was distantly aware of the girls giggling as their conversation continued. Draco paid them no mind as his mind frantically worked.

There were other rumours, of course. Several of Potter’s love-‘em-and-leave-‘em beaus gossiped to anyone who would print their words for a few minutes of fame. They felt they should be lauded because they had bagged Harry Potter and lived to tell the legend of his gifted endowment, and what a wonderful beast he could be in the bedroom. Draco just hadn’t put much stock in what the gossip columns published on Potter. He figured the would-be lovers were just after Potter for the name and the fame — and the bragging rights if they blabbed about his prick.

After Potter and Ginny Weasley split in eighth year, Potter had developed a taste for life, and a bit of a playboy image, once he was signed on as a Seeker for Puddlemere United. Draco never paid any attention to the gossip, not when he saw for himself what Potter was like at different Quidditch galas and events over the years. As one of the _Daily Prophet_ ’s top reporters, he always garnered an invitation.

Potter was never the obnoxious playboy the papers touted him as, but he always had a new handsome bloke hanging off of his arm at every outing, and he certainly made sure to enjoy himself. Draco always chalked up Potter’s ability to easily get men to his notoriety and charm. He never quite believed that Potter could be so lucky.

But now — now that he had confirmation from a reliable and credible source — surely he had to find out for himself. Now he was a man on a mission.

*******

It took cashing in on several of the favours he’d tallied up with the rest of the reporting staff, but Draco managed to ensure that he was the one interviewing Potter after his latest big win that would ensure Puddlemere United were close to reclaiming the League Cup.

After the game he strode into the team locker room, seating himself by Potter’s designated locker. Other team members filed out quickly, pausing only to give Draco a few quick quotes for his article when he prompted them. Potter took the longest in the shower, and Draco’s mind supplied him with images of him leaning against the stall and wanking his thick cock. He bit his lip and shifted in his seat, readjusting his robes. Part of him wished for the more austere style of the Hogwarts uniform, as his more stylish robes currently didn’t cover his problem with enough modesty or decorum. His anticipation was ready to shoot through the roof at the prospect of trying to weasel the truth out of Potter himself.

Finally, Potter emerged from the showers in a cloud of steam, with a towel riding low on his hips. Water droplets were still rolling down his Quidditch-toned abs, and his biceps flexed as he lifted another towel to scrub at his damp hair. He raised an eyebrow at Draco as he came to a stop in front of his locker and silently turned to pull out his wand and his clothes.

Draco mentally picked his jaw up from the floor, glad that he managed to keep his cool mask in place.

“Great game, Potter,” Draco said in greeting. He held up his quill and a leather-bound journal he used for jotting down notes during interviews. “I’m here on behalf of the _Prophet_ to interview you for a big article on the teams left on the road to the League Cup.”

“Malfoy. Alright, then,” Potter said with a huff. He scooped up his broom and maintenance kit, and sat on the bench next to Draco. He trimmed the well-groomed bristles. Draco let himself watch the way his forearms flexed when he squeezed the clippers for a moment before he shook himself and launched into his interview questions.

“You demonstrated excellent form, as per usual, in today’s game. Can you comment on your strategies for besting the other team’s Seeker?” Draco tapped his peacock feather quill against his chin, imagining it was something else he wanted near his lips. “And a follow up, if I may, what practices have you been employing to keep your excellent form?”

He let his eyes roam over Potter’s exposed chest appreciatively, not even bothering to mask his interest. Potter didn’t seem to notice as Draco drank in the sight of him.

“I, er, usually just run at home and do the drills that the coaches put us through,” Potter answered with a small frown of concentration as he fine-tuned the foot braces on his broom. “And I guess I just listen to my instincts. I focus more on finding the Snitch rather than worry too much about the other Seeker. I usually just keep the other player’s position in my periphery. The Snitch has most of my focus during a game, and if I listen to my instincts I can always find it first.”

Draco bombarded him with more questions about the game to ease him into the interview process. Potter was extremely put upon at first, answering his questions in the blandest way possible. When Draco thought he was zoned out enough, he began to slip in more and more forward comments.

“Your physique has certainly improved greatly with your professional contract. I remember how you looked when we were at school together. You were pretty scrawny back then,” Draco said, leaning close and running the feather back and forth under his chin in a caress. Potter raised an eyebrow at him.

“Was there a question in there somewhere?” he asked dubiously.

“There was if you’d been paying attention,” Draco scoffed. He flicked Potter’s bicep with the peacock feather. “My question was how you compare your training now to your training regimen when you first started, and how that affects how you play the game.”

“I’ve played the way I always do,” Potter answered with a put-upon frown. He unscrewed the lid of the broom polish and set about carefully oiling his broom with a polishing cloth. Draco lost his train of thought as he watched Potter’s hands work. Merlin, he wanted them wrapped around his shaft. He shifted in his seat and jotted down more notes for his article, resolutely _not_ describing the tantalising way Potter’s muscles flexed each time his arm moved up and down, polishing the wood.

“And can you put to rest the rumours that you’ve ever used enhancements, Muggle or otherwise? Your name popped up in that Felix Felicis scandal last year, though it was proved you weren’t involved,” Draco said, letting his sentence trail off open ended. Potter’s eyes flashed, and Draco swore he could _taste_ the static crackle of his magic filling the room. It was a heady and mesmerizing sensation.

“I’ve already commented on that at length,” Potter said through clenched teeth.

“Alright, fine, moving onto another topic then. Care to discuss your broom sponsorship offers this year? After the season is over, do you expect to continue being the public face of Nimbus?”

Potter rolled his eyes and continued polishing the broom.

“I guess,” he grunted. “I actually…”

He trailed off before he finished his sentence. Draco sat forward, eagerly awaiting an actual, honest opinion.

“Yes?” Draco asked, carefully controlling his voice so that he came off as non-threatening.

“I’ve been working with a designer on some broom designs. You can’t put it in this article though, it’s not public knowledge yet,” Potter said. His eyes were bright and excited, and for a moment it stole Draco’s breath away. He narrowed his eyes in consideration.

“You can’t tempt me with that, and then snatch it away from me. What will you give me in return for keeping this information quiet?” His voice dipped lower and he ran the tip of the peacock feather along his lip.

Draco was gratified to see Potter’s eyes drop to his mouth. Potter licked his own lips, making Draco’s twitch into a smirk.

“I can’t imagine there’s much I can give you that you don’t already get from interviewing me,” Potter said, his voice huskier.

Draco’s lips curled slowly from a smirk into a cat-like grin.

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Potter,” Draco chided. “I’ll have the exclusive rights to report on it when you are ready to unveil this secret partnership of yours, in exchange for keeping your secret. Can you at least tell me if it’s with one of your latest lovers?”

“No,” Potter said flatly.

“No you won’t tell me, or no it’s not one of your besotted beaus?” Draco wouldn’t budge on his stipulation that he would get the exclusive. Harry Potter designing brooms? It was going to make the papers fly off the stands.

Potter sighed in exasperation.

“No, it’s not someone I’m dating,” he said, flapping a hand.

“Good,” Draco said. He flipped to a fresh page in his notes. “Moving on, then. What’s your favourite treat to indulge in during the season, when you need to keep yourself so in shape for flying?”

“Er, treacle tart has always been my weakness,” Potter stammered. He ran a hand through his damp hair, splattering Draco with the wayward droplets. One hit his lip.

He pinned Potter in place with a look as he slowly dragged his tongue across his lip to lick up the water. Potter’s eyes went darker for a moment before he stood up in a fluid motion. He stowed his broom and Draco was treated to a chance to admire his back as he turned away.

“The shoulder injury from late last season seems to have healed well,” Draco said faintly, his eyes roaming over Potter’s broad back.

Potter looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with him again. Something shifted in them. He turned slowly to face Draco again, watching him with an appraising look.

“Do you have any other questions for me?” Potter asked. Draco stood and tucked away his things. Potter was watching him closely, making no move to get dressed.

“Tell me, Potter,” Draco said as he stepped closer, trying to discreetly catch a peek for himself. “Are those rumours about your little — or rather, not-so-little — broom true?”

“Who’s asking, Malfoy? You, or those bloodsuckers at the _Daily Prophet_?” Potter asked, crowding Draco back into the row of lockers, bracing a taut forearm next to his head. They were closely matched in height, with Draco maybe winning out by an inch, but Potter felt taller with his sheer force of presence and muscle mass. He was still lean compared to the other professional players, keeping a Seeker’s build, but he was a grown man now, fully filled out in all the right places. Draco swallowed thickly and lifted his chin.

“Do I count as one of those bloodsuckers, too? I’ll have you know, I’m rather well known for being good at sucking on things,” Draco said with a lilting voice. Potter’s eyes flashed with heat and he inched closer, nearly touching Draco with his bare chest. Fuck, Potter even _smelled_ good. Draco could taste anticipation on his tongue like magic crackling in the air. His breathing was shallow as he counted his heartbeats. Desire curled in the pit of his stomach; he wanted to close the miniscule distance between their bodies. “Care to find out if my reputation matches your reputation?”

Potter smirked at him, his eyes roaming over Draco’s face, and down over his body. “Think you can handle me, Malfoy?”

“You? Absolutely, I’ve been handling your lot for years, among my other assignments,” Draco said with a prideful scoff. Potter tilted his head to the side, considering him.

“I don’t think you can handle it,” he said.

“Like hell I can’t! What’s the matter, are you scared, Potter?” Draco asked sharply.

Potter grinned a toothy, predatory grin. He leaned in close, his skin just barely skimming Draco’s robe. His lips brushed Draco’s ear. He could feel Potter’s body heat enveloping him in heady warmth. Potter reached up blindly to pluck Draco’s glasses off, tucking them into his robe pocket.

“You wish, Malfoy,” Potter said faintly. Draco shuddered as Potter took his ear between his teeth and nibbled. He pressed his whole body forward, arching against Potter’s naked chest as a raw sound escaped his throat. Potter’s hands came up to grip his arms above the elbows to hold him steady as his lips trailed across his cheek to hover over his lips. “You wish,” he repeated before he pressed their lips together.

Draco felt like he might collapse to the floor in a heap if Potter wasn’t holding him upright. Potter’s lips were soft and insistent. He kissed like he flew — confident, demanding attention, and with his whole body. The kiss made Draco’s toes curl as their lips slid together.

He opened his mouth immediately when he felt Potter probing for more, allowing Potter’s seeking tongue access. He sucked it into his mouth and curled his own tongue around it in an imitation — a _promise_ of what he wanted to do to him later. Potter groaned and took another step forward, effectively pinning Draco to the row of lockers with his whole body.

Potter nipped at his lip, then traced his tongue over it to soothe it. He slid one hand up to cup Draco’s jaw, gently tilting his head to kiss him deeper until Draco’s knees felt weak. He broke away to catch his breath, and Potter’s teeth grazed his jaw as he nibbled a path to his neck. His fingers slid into Draco’s hair, gripping and tugging lightly to gain better access to Draco’s neck. He sucked hard on Draco’s pulse point, pressing his teeth into his pale skin, and then kissing the same spot gently. Draco was so achingly hard for him, his cock throbbing in his trousers.

Draco bucked his hips forward, seeking any friction he could find. At that point he would gladly rut against Potter’s thigh like one of his mother’s prized Crups if it meant he could come _right now_. Potter chuckled and moved to pin his hips back against the lockers.

“Not so fast,” he said in a deep timbre. “See, I told you that you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“Merlin, shut up, Potter! Are you going to stand there talking, or are you going to strip me, and do something about how hard I am right now?” Draco asked in a biting tone.

“So bossy,” Potter commented, amusement lacing his voice. Draco practically snarled, reaching one leg up and hooking it behind Potter’s knee to draw him closer so that he could _feel_ Draco’s cock through his trousers.

“Feel that, you smug tosser? That’s because of you. I’ve been half hard since I walked in here, thinking about the rumours I overheard about your legendary cock. Now,” he growled, rolling his hips against Potter’s for emphasis. He nearly lost his train of thought when he felt Potter’s own erection that was hidden by the towel. “I hate repeating myself, but since you are still rather dim, it seems I’ll need to suffer through it. Are — you — going — to — do — something — about — this?”

Draco took satisfaction in the way Potter’s eyes glazed over when he punctuated each of his demanding words with a thrust of his hips, grinding their hard cocks together. Potter made a strangled sound and dropped to his knees so fast that Draco nearly did a double take at seeing Potter kneeling at his feet, looking up at him with desire in his eyes. He swallowed thickly and ran his hands through Potter’s hair, gripping firmly.

“That’s more like it. Be useful while you’re down there, and suck my cock,” he drawled. Potter nodded, his fingers scrabbling at the fastenings of his robes. Draco _tsked_ and swatted his hands away. “Oh, let me. You’ll only ruin the material with your meaty athlete hands.”

“I bet you ten Galleons you won’t have the same complaint about my _meaty athlete hands_ when they’re touching you, and I can absolutely guarantee you’ll be begging for more when I have my fingers inside you,” Potter promised, making Draco shiver at his words.

He had to rein in his control not to lose it right there in his pants like a teenager. It wasn’t an easy feat, considering Potter was every culmination of his recent and teenage fantasies rolled into one at the current moment. Draco took a shaky breath and quickly opened his robes, sliding them off his shoulders and hanging them on an open locker within reach. Potter’s hands were busy greedily opening his trousers and pulling out his throbbing prick. He spared a brief moment admiring it before he dove in, closing his lips around Draco’s cock and teasing the underside with a wicked tongue.

“Oh, sweet Merlin,” Draco rasped out as his head smacked against the locker.

_Harry Potter is on his knees, sucking my cock right now_ , he thought with wide eyes as his hands reached blindly to cup the back of Potter’s head as he bobbed and sucked his dick.

Potter’s mouth was hot and his tongue, oh, Merlin, his tongue, Draco wanted to feel it all over his body — wanted to feel it _in_ him. His hips bucked against Potter’s hands holding him firmly in place, desperately trying to get _more, more_. Potter’s amused, humming chuckle vibrated around his cock as Potter sucked harder. It was too much, and he could feel his orgasm welling up inside of him in a rush. It was about to be over before they’d even really started if he didn’t do something about it. Draco’s fingers gripped fistfuls of Potter’s wild hair and tugged him off his cock with a slick _pop_. He panted raggedly, sagging back against the wall of lockers. Potter’s lips were twitching with amusement, swollen and slick with saliva.

“Too close already? We can’t have that,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over Draco’s exposed hipbone. Draco tried to open his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a strangled _nngh_ as he grappled with pulling himself back from the edge. Potter snorted and leaned forward to bite playfully at his hip while his other hand stroked teasingly at Draco’s balls.

“Fucking hell,” Draco whispered, twitching and arching into the light touch. Potter hummed and looked up at him with a cheeky grin.

“Not yet, but we’re working our way up to that,” he promised.

Draco’s knees felt wobbly again, like they’d been replaced with Jelly Slugs from Honeydukes. Potter stood, finally removing the towel that was just barely hanging onto his hips. He let it drop to the floor unceremoniously, and his thick cock sprung forward like a gift presented to Draco. His mouth watered at the sight of it, and he let out an involuntary sound. Potter wasn’t just hung, he was _massive_. Definitely the largest Draco had ever been with. Potter stood there, suddenly shy and scrubbing a hand through his hair, not meeting Draco’s eyes.

“If it’s too much for you, then you can definitely fuck me,” Potter said in a rush, and if Draco hadn’t been leaning heavily against the locker for support, he definitely would have slid to the floor in a heap at that.

“I — you —” Draco struggled to make a coherent string of words come out of his mouth. He had lost all of his usual composure that he prided himself on. His brain felt like it was shutting off completely, overcome with overwhelming lust. He cleared his throat, aware of the nervous way Potter was watching him. He suddenly realised that all of Potter’s mouthy beaus were idiots to ever let Potter and his gift go. He took a deep breath and decided on what he wanted first. “While I would very much like that, Potter, I absolutely want you to fuck me.”

Potter’s head snapped up so quickly Draco thought he heard something pop. His green eyes were wide, his bushy eyebrows raised high on his forehead. Draco stepped forward and wrapped his fingers around Potter’s cock. It felt even better in his hand than he thought it would. He made a low sound in his throat when Potter’s eyelids fluttered closed and he pressed into his grip.

“You’re going to fuck me, Potter,” Draco whispered. He mashed both of his lips between his teeth when Potter shuddered against him, hips bucking into his fist and his breath hitching. “I want this gorgeous cock of yours,” he squeezed it for emphasis, earning a faint sound from Potter, “to split me open.”

Potter groaned and dropped his forehead to Draco’s shoulder, turning to mouth at the faint mark he’d started earlier. Draco tilted his head to give Potter better access while he stroked his massive length. After a few minutes of Potter mouthing at his neck and Draco stroking him, Potter pulled back to give him a considering look.

“What?” Draco asked, afraid that he was going to change his mind and send him away.

“I want to eat your arse before I open you up with my fingers,” Potter stated, so nonchalantly that it took Draco a moment to process what he’d heard. All of the air left his lungs in a rush. Potter was a god damned _gift_. He nodded, unable to form a proper response. When he raised his hands to remove the rest of his clothes, Potter stopped him before he could fully remove his shirt. “I like you like that. Leave the shirt on, take the trousers off.”

After shucking his trousers and pants, and carefully folding them on the bench, he turned back to Potter, standing with his shirt hanging open. Potter’s eyes were roaming over him, green irises growing darker with want. He reached out and grabbed Draco, spinning him around and pressing him against the cool metal of the lockers again. Draco braced his arms against it. He could feel Potter’s callused fingers grazing up his bare thighs and gripping the material of his shirt, bunching it up and holding it aside so he could admire the swell of his arse. Fingers trailed lightly over his arse, teasingly kneading and pulling his cheeks apart.

“Today would be nice. I would like to come sometime in this century from having your cock rammed up my arse, if you please,” Draco snapped, trying to hurry Potter along. He heard a snort behind him as Potter continued to slowly trail his fingers over his arse in a lazy caress. He heard Potter mutter under his breath, and felt the tingle of magic being cast, but he didn’t know what it was. His brain fogged over when Potter finally spread his cheeks wide and leaned in to breathe hotly over his hole. “Mmm, that’s more like it.”

Potter stroked one finger over his entrance, circling the furled hole until Draco was squirming with a need for more. When he pressed back, Potter would pull his hand away, deigning only to breathe over his arsehole. Draco whined impatiently, eager to feel his wicked tongue on him, but Potter seemed determined to torture him until he broke down and begged for it. He tried to hold out for as long as he could, stubbornly refusing to even twitch a muscle, to show Potter it didn’t matter to him — that the bastard should be thanking Draco for _allowing_ him the opportunity. His composure lasted all of two minutes before he snapped.

“Fuck, okay you _bastard_ — please,” Draco begged, shoving his arse back. He could hear Potter snickering, and, Merlin help him, he was going to kill the arsehole if he didn’t _do something_. “Please, Potter,” he repeated.

A broken sound escaped Draco when Potter moved forward and closed his lips over his entrance, his tongue flicking and swirling around his hole. He barely caught his breath before Potter started sweeping his tongue in broad strokes over his rim. The slurping sounds Potter made were obscene, making him flush and hide his face against his arm. He could feel fingers pressing into his skin, holding him open while Potter’s tongue wormed its way into him in quick, jabbing thrusts before it swirled around his hole and licked him in broad strokes again. He spread his legs wider, arched and pressed back as Potter thrust his tongue deeper. He moaned when Potter traced his loosened hole with his tongue before nipping lightly at the sensitive skin.

Draco bit into his arm to muffle his cry of pleasure when one of his fingers slid in alongside his tongue. He could _feel_ Potter grinning against the skin of his arse, and Draco wanted to snap something biting that would wipe that smug grin off his face, but his brain short circuited again when Potter murmured under his breath and smeared slick oil around his rim. He pressed another finger in alongside the first, pumping them in and out, stroking him from the inside.

“Salazar, that’s good,” Draco said in a tight voice, working himself on Potter’s fingers. He could feel teeth nipping at his arse playfully as the fingers inside of him scissored to stretch him open.

“Told you,” Potter said in a self-satisfied voice.

Potter found his prostate quickly, pressing his fingers in deeply and stroking him at different angles until he curled his fingers in the right spot. Draco’s back bowed as pleasurable sparks zinged up his spine.

“Mm, right there?” Potter breathed his question into Draco’s damp skin. He keened in response as Potter rubbed his prostate relentlessly. “Ready for another?”

Draco nodded jerkily, a raw sound scraping its way out of his throat as Potter inched a third finger inside his hole. He muttered under his breath again and Draco felt a gush of oil coating his hole. He didn’t see Potter retrieve his wand from his bag, and just the thought of Potter being powerful enough to cast wandlessly made his cock throb. He thrust back on Potter’s thick fingers as they pumped in and out of him, groaning each time Potter massaged the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of him.

“More,” Draco choked out. “Another, Potter, please.”

“You want a fourth finger?” Potter clarified in a strained voice, the edges of his control finally beginning to crack. Draco nodded frantically, whining until he felt Potter wriggling his pinkie in alongside his other fingers. His legs shook as he felt the stretch and burn. Potter slowed his movements, holding his fingers deep inside of his arse before sliding them out at a snail’s pace. He pushed them back in just as slowly, carefully, as if he was opening Draco up with a large toy. Draco made a strangled sound, nearly sobbing when Potter prodded his prostate with all four of his fingers.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Draco babbled quickly, scrabbling at the lockers he was clinging to. “I need you to fuck me right now — like _this absolute minute_ , Potter, or I’m going to come all over these lockers without you.”

“Jesus, Malfoy,” Potter breathed. He gently pulled his fingers free, and Draco felt more than heard him standing behind him. He could hear another murmured phrase and the slick, squelching sounds of a cock being slathered in lube. “Okay.”

Potter’s hand brushed over his back, petting him like he was a skittish horse, before gripping his bare hip and pulling his arse towards him. Draco bit his lip in anticipation as the blunt head of Potter’s thick prick brushed over his hole. Potter lined himself up and just barely started to press in. He leaned forwards, tugging Draco’s open shirt aside so he could close his mouth over his skin, nibbling and sucking at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

“Ready?” Potter mumbled his question into Draco’s skin. He nodded wildly, pressing back against the crown of Potter’s oil-slicked cock, feeling the pressure as it started to breach him. Potter shifted forward slowly, steadily easing in until the fat head of his length was in, wider than the four fingers had been. Draco panted, already feeling sweat dripping down his body. His damp shirt stuck to his back as he leaned back into Potter’s firm chest for support. He worked his hips back and forth, slowly feeling more and more of Potter’s prick sliding into him and filling him up. He was almost impossibly thick, stretching him to a point where he nearly couldn’t breathe. The burn danced on the knife-edge of pleasure-pain. Potter murmured quiet words of encouragement to him, reaching up to smooth his fringe away from his sweaty forehead. Draco’s head dropped back on Potter’s shoulder, and he felt warm lips brushing his cheek.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well,” Potter murmured. He slid out a little and thrust in with short snaps of his hips until he was more than halfway in. Draco’s cock was rock hard between his legs, leaking precome and bobbing with each thrust. He nodded, wordlessly willing Potter to understand what he wanted. He was gratified when Potter pulled more than halfway out and rocked back in with one long, sharp thrust. He paused for a long moment, seated all the way to his balls, breathing against Draco’s cheek. “Oh, Merlin, that’s—”

“Fuck me, Potter.”

Draco turned his head just enough to capture his lips in a needy kiss. He broke away from it, voice cracking as he cried out when Potter started a slow rhythm, angling himself so that the head of his massive prick rubbed back and forth over his prostate with every snap of his hips.

“Ohhh, yes, just like that,” Draco moaned.

Potter wrapped one arm around Draco’s chest to hold him steady while the other curled around his hip and dipped low to fondle his balls. He held on tightly to Draco’s open shirt, clenching it in his grip for leverage. His thrusts picked up speed until he was spearing Draco open with each punishing, pounding slam of his hips. Draco’s breath left him in a rush, his voice caught in his throat on a strangled shout of pleasure. All he felt were sensations — the burn of Potter’s huge cock splitting him open, the pleasure of his prostate as his length dragged over it, and Potter’s teasing fingers torturing his balls. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer, it was all far too overwhelming. He could only spare a brief thought to promise himself this wouldn’t be the only time he would get to have this.

He began babbling as Potter fucked him thoroughly, clenching around his prick with each thrust. “Oh fuck, yeah! Potter, fuck, that’s so good, oh my god. I can’t, it’s too much — _shit_ , please!”

“God, Malfoy, your arse is perfect,” Potter groaned, scraping his teeth over the bruise blooming on the side of his neck. Draco shuddered in his arms as Potter sped up his pace even more.

“Touch me,” Draco begged desperately. Potter obliged him immediately; he gripped his dripping erection in a firm grip and stroked him in fast, rough tugs. Draco moaned, hips bucking into the circle of Potter’s fist and back onto Potter’s thick length. “Oh my god, oh — I’m comi—”

Draco didn’t even get the rest of his words out before his cock twitched and pulsed in Potter’s hand as his orgasm hit him from everywhere at once. He arched against Potter’s body as he spilled, striping the lockers in front of them with the thick globs of his release. Potter’s arm tightened around his chest, still stroking him slowly with his other hand as he pounded into Draco’s arse, extending his orgasm in pleasurable aftershocks. He practically shrieked as Potter paused to ground his cock insistently into his prostate, feeling far too over stimulated. He jerked against Potter’s grip, his toes curling tightly as bliss continued to sear through his body.

He moaned loudly, continuously, as Potter stimulated his prostate with his prick, grinding his hips in a tight circle against Draco’s arse. Potter stroked him slowly as he tortured him, until the pleasure was coiling low in Draco’s gut again. He trailed biting kisses up his neck and along his jaw, punctuating each one with encouraging whispers.

“Keep making those sounds,” he breathed against his skin.

Potter pulled out and snapped his hips back, aiming to perfectly ram into his prostate. Draco’s cries echoed off the walls as he felt a second orgasm welling up inside, and crashing over him in a rush. He was distantly aware of his dick twitching in Potter’s grip while he shivered in buzzing satisfaction. He clenched around Potter’s thick cock as he thrust hard into Draco’s arse and pulsed. His whole body tensed, and his hands held Draco tightly. Potter’s release filled him, his prick throbbing deep inside of him as Potter came. He could feel it dribbling out of his arse as Potter came and came and _came_.

The aftershocks of a second orgasm left him trembling and sagging heavily against Potter’s solid form. Potter was shaking, too. His arms were wrapped tightly around Draco, holding both of them up while they panted raggedly.

Potter carefully pulled out, leaving Draco’s hole gaping and bereft. He whimpered as Potter’s fingers traced his abused, loose rim. His muscles were twitching, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into a bed and lay down. Neither of them spoke to break the silence between them. Potter pressed his lips to Draco’s exposed shoulder in a gentle kiss that made Draco’s stomach swoop pleasantly. They separated after several long moments of resting against each other as they came down from their intense orgasms. They both glanced towards the showers longingly.

“I,” Draco started, pausing to clear his scratchy throat. “I have a rather nice shower at my place.”

“Is that an invitation?” Potter asked with a shy smile.

“Well, there is the matter of you offering to let me fuck you, which will obviously need to be collected on,” Draco said, waving his hand. He felt his arse twinge with the movement.

“Obviously,” Potter repeated, his lips twitching into a poorly concealed grin. “Do you have a bath?”

“I do. A nice big clawfoot that may or may not have built-in wizard space,” Draco said, reaching out to trail a finger over Potter’s chest. “It’s perfectly capable of fitting two people in it.”

“So, to be perfectly clear, you are inviting me over to yours for a nice long soak in that tub of yours, and then after a rest, and hopefully a meal, you’re going to fuck me good and proper?” Potter clarified, stepping close to wrap his arms around Draco.

“I’m inviting you to be chained to my bed for the foreseeable future, Potter. Don’t think I’m about to let you get away from me so soon. I’m nothing like the others you’ve been with,” Draco said imperiously. Potter raised an eyebrow.

“Think you can handle all of me?” Draco smirked at Potter’s repeated words from earlier. He leaned forward, his lips hovering just over his lips.

“I think I’ve just proved that rather nicely, actually. The real question is whether _you_ can handle all of _me_ ,” Draco said before kissing him deeply. Potter’s arms tightened around him, making something warm settle in Draco’s heart as they kissed slowly. When they parted they rested their foreheads together.

“Okay, let’s go find out the answer to that, yeah? I’m knackered and dying to try your bath.”

Potter smirked at him, turning to summon his things into his equipment bag with a lazy wave of his hand, hinting at how powerful he must be if he could still do that wandlessly after a vigorous fuck. Potter slipped his glasses back on his face after he ended his vision-correction charm.

Draco cast a perfunctory cleaning charm over himself and Potter before he dressed and found his own glasses. Potter held out his hand for Draco to take, so that they could Side-Along Apparate to Draco’s flat.

“By the way, you’re buying me dinner for that,” Draco said offhandedly as he held up his wand.

“By the way, you owe me ten Galleons for begging for my _meaty athlete hands_ ,” Potter answered with a devious smirk.


End file.
